Ho hum. Moving things along. I am SO SORRY if I messed up any continuity.


     And it was then that she looked just a little to her left, and saw Harper. His cap tilted at just the right angle to cover his features with a long shadow, but even then Giselle could not deny that shape. Harper is here. He had been here all along, watching.
     Just then the beast pinned her head down with a heavy hand. Forcing her to stare shamefully at her lover. Still pushing. Always pushing. The tears fell in torrents now, mixing with the dirty fluids already on the hard pavement. Diluting, forming a muddy, salty mixture with the dirt and grime.
     For a brief moment, the water clouded her eyes. Giselle whimpered, her voice cracked and hoarse from screaming. 'Ha... Harper...' she said, her voice barely a whisper now.
     The beast slapped her, holding her head down even harder. 'Still thinking of that lowly scum, eh?' He guffawed, 'Well, he ain' gonna be here, he didn't even bother!'
     But Harper is here! He's... watching me! Giselle wanted to shout, but her voice would not come. She shook off the tears as best as she could. But Harper was gone.
     A hallucination. Harper was never here.
     Giselle closed her eyes again, this time in defeat. Trying to ignore the spasms that overtook her body with each thrust. Trying to ignore time itself, for all she could do was wait until this ordeal was over.
     And it did.

     Giselle awoke to the sound of crickets, and she found herself alone. Her clothes, her pale, powder blue dress that Harper had given her, torn to shreds. Her hair, her entire body was sticky with the beast's essence. And though the blood had long coagulated, they stained her thighs, forming a pool about her sacred zone where they had come from. It was all that was left of her chastity.
     Giselle gathered herself, trying to wipe herself with whatever scraps of untouched cloth she could find. But no matter how she scrubbed or moved the fabric across her skin, she still felt unclean. She had committed a cardinal sin, not even able to be faithful.
     Giselle felt like a slut. A whore. Like a bar wench, fit only to serve the drunkards at the local tavern in whatever way they chose.
     Her scream pierced through the night sky. No matter how hard she tried, she could not forget that incident. Her sobs wracked her body, but not as much as that... beast's torture. It had destroyed her body, her mind, her soul. So Giselle screamed. Even though her voice was long gone, and her eyes dry.

     'Why are you crying, missus?' A small voice spoke up.
     Giselle looked down, it was a small child. Edward, if she remembered correctly. That poor little soul from across the street, forced to develop talents to match the likes of Mozart and Beethoven but without much success.
     That's right. Giselle told herself then. Things will get better soon. She wiped the tear away, and smiled at the boy.
     'Just the dust in my eye.'


I feel so dirty. :(
Now I can see why nobody wanted to continue this. Excuse me while I go take a long shower to rid myself of this dirt. I'm never going to do a story that's the least related to sex ever, ever again.

Oh, and are we going for an old, Victorian era-esque story here? 'Coz while it worked for Cholera (Discovered in the nineteenth century), it won't really work for AIDS, since it was discovered a lot, lot later, in the 1980s.

Just my two cents.

Labels: Bitto, Love in the Time of AIDS

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